


Broken Record

by Raisans_Grapeon



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Angst, Blood and Gore, Dolls, Ghosts, Non-Graphic Violence, Possession, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-10-05 06:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17319656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raisans_Grapeon/pseuds/Raisans_Grapeon
Summary: This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, Shane and Ryan investigate The Old Dollmaker’s House, as a part of their ongoing investigation into the question, are ghosts real?Shane will soon learn that yes, they are, and this particular doll maker does not like being taunted.





	1. Patience Like Silk

**Author's Note:**

> This is stupid, I'm stupid but I wrote this anyway. 
> 
> Uh hey, welcome back to another one of my works. Uh this time we got ehhhhhhhhh a very very weird thought that just happened to take form.
> 
> I am not a professional writer, nor am I an English major. I am not the best at this so any and all constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.
> 
> Also, this location does not exist, it is just my own makings for this.
> 
> That being said, enjoy... t h i s.

A soft, blinking red light flashed as multiple lights struggled to illuminate the rickety house that stood behind Shane and Ryan. The paint on the outer walls was peeling off in long, thick strips to reveal dark wood underneath. The porch stairs that the two men sat on were uneven, bending and bowing after years shifting temperatures. The wood was splintering and  damp from the rain that ended no less than 30 minutes ago. The scent of wet foliage permeated throughout the area as drops of water captured starlight and hit the soggy Earth below. The Massachusetts air was warm and muggy, almost suffocating to Shane, but Ryan didn’t seem bothered. The smaller man had jumped into the intro without Shane realizing, Ryan’s voice fading in again.

 

“-estion, are ghosts real?” Shane almost sighed in relief, glad he didn’t miss his cue to shake his head dismissively at the camera that focused on his face. Without a beat missed, Ryan slipped into an uneasy look behind his shoulder to see the crusted over bug screens and the front door that was only slightly ajar. “This place is the Island of the Dolls mixed with Bellaire house, if that gives you a-a taste of what’s to come!” Ryan smiled, showing off his teeth, but it was incredibly pained. It did make Shane chuckle a bit.

 

“Well then I guess we’ll be seeing dolls in a house then,” Shane commented with an air of fake calm as the humid air pressed against his shoulders.

 

Ryan cut in with a sharp point of his finger at Shane, gaze intense, with the glimmer of fear well hidden behind a playful grin. “And ghosts!”

 

“And ghosts,” Shane parroted back with less enthusiasm, nodding his head slightly.

 

Huffing, Ryan rolled his eyes and pulled up his script on his phone. “Shut up, Shane. We’re getting into the history of this place.”

 

Shane only got a laugh in edgewise before Ryan plunged head first into his theory voice.

 

“The year was 1943, when this house was built by a man named Roger Orkney, who as 37 at the time. Roger was a doll maker, and ran a business right in his own home.”

 

**doll maker. that doesn’t tie you to an ill fate at all**

 

_ (wheeze) ye- yeah. i’d have to agree, it’s one of the more creepy professions _

 

**but if it pays!**

 

_ yeah if it pays the bills, then i guess. make some creepy little red head dolls _

 

**yeah. make a little Shane doll. do you think ghosts take commissions in the afterlife? would i offer him like… uh**

 

_ ya- (wheeze) you want to commission Roger to make a doll of you? _

 

**sure! it would be a neat trick if he could do that. then again, ghosts aren’t real so i guess i’m getting nothing out of this little trip**

 

_ sure _

 

Ryan resumed with the history of the house. “He made do with his business of making tailored dolls to look like their owners, and repairing broken dolls, toys, or ripped clothes; however, this attracted an unsavory crowd. People would come to get dolls who looked like their enemies, and allegedly curse them in order to cause that person harm.”

 

**jesus. that’s a roundabout way of doing it. ever thought of like… i dunno uh- talk -talking it out? you know, a little heart to heart? find some common ground?**

 

_ jssahaha! what are you a therapist? “okay- _

 

**hahahaha!**

 

_ now, why don’t you tell Garry how you feel about him.”  _

 

**i- hahah “i fucking hate him” “okay-okay alright, now, Garry, tell John how you feel”**

 

_ “I hate him too” _

 

**“see, you have common ground in hating each other!”**

 

_ (wheeze) _

 

“In 1959, Roger was asked by another man named Charles Goffman to make a doll that looked like his wife. When Roger asked what he was planning to do with the doll, Charles was very standoffish, never directly answering his question. Roger got the hint, and told Charles that he would not help him in whatever scheme he had planned. Charles, enraged by Roger’s refusal to do the job, went back to the doll maker’s house, and shot him in the head through a window.” 

 

**that blows**

 

_ Shane this is very serious not the time for puns _

 

**oh come on, i would never forgive myself if i didn’t trigger it**

 

_ (wheeze) okay, i’m ignoring you _

 

**it’s a shot in the dark, but i’m starting to think you aren’t enjoying this**

 

“Roger died, and the house jumped from owner to owner, but no one kept it for long. All the owners claimed that the ghost of Roger Orkney haunted the home. There were reports of flickering lights, footsteps, and random appliances turning on without being plugged in. But what convinced all the previous owners that the ghost haunting this house was Roger, was the fact that if there were other dolls in the house, they would be violently flung across room, and even torn to bits.”

 

**sounds to me like he had a tendency for being jealous**

 

_ you have to admit this is fishy _

 

**i don’t have to admit anything. maybe the kids hated their dolls and tore them up**

 

_ all the kids? Shane, this place had 14 owners leading up to today, are you saying that every time, it was the kid happening to not like their toy, and tearing it up the same way the other kids did? that doesn’t make sense! _

 

**i-uh- hey, i’m just providing some logical explanations!**

 

_ yeah well they suck _

 

“That being said, let's begin our investigation by going into a room in the house called ‘The Dollmaker’s Room.’ It’s currently a bedroom, but the room was once Roger’s workshop.”

 

“Welp!” Shane clapped his hands together. “What a riveting story Ryan! I guess it’s high time to go find some ghouls!” He was almost too quick to stand up from the boards. The house was old, but well kept by the owners, even though they didn’t live there, and Shane just wanted to get out of the heavy outside air. 

 

Ryan pushed himself up looking over to Shane. “Yeah. Give TJ some time to prepare the cameras though!” 

 

Shane just waved his hand as he disappeared into the building, letting the door creak closed behind him. Ryan huffed and turned to the car to set himself up with his cameras help TJ get the lights and check all the batteries one last time. It never took too long but it would’ve been done sooner if Shane had been nice and actually helped out. 

 

TJ and Ryan moved the cameras and electronics in the house, expecting to find Shane in the living room that the front door dumps the visitors into, but the sasquach was no where to be seen. “Shane! Get your long legs over here so we can set you up with the equipment!” He let the command hang in the air, waiting for Shane to come yelling back.

 

“Righto!,” Shaned called from somewhere upstairs, hard footsteps thumping down. Shane rounded a corner, his expression unreadable. “Just checking to see what was making noise in the house. There are a lot of drafty spots. Kinda wish I brought a jacket.” He pulled at the collar of his flannel shirt. “But all the electricity and gas is off, so we shouldn’t have much interference.” TJ handed Shane his chest camera, letting the tall man secure it around his torso. Ryan eyed his friend, holding Shane’s hand held camera tightly. Shane made eye contact, and grinned in amusement as uneasiness clawed away the thin veil of composure that Ryan always tried to uphold. “Let's rock, and or roll.”

 

The house groaned as it relaxed and settled. Every step on the hardwood floors elicited a crack or sigh, filling Shane’s head with explanations for later occurrences. He cataloged them away with the drafty areas of the house, and strode onwards, catching glimpses back to Ryan, observing his usual tense shoulders and careful steps that lead with the toes rather than his heel. Shane turned around fully, lifting his arm slightly and focusing his hand held camera to focus on Ryan, as if to say ,“here it is.” Ryan just gave Shane an irritated smirk. “Shut up, Shane.”

 

Shane just lifted his arms up higher. “I didn’t even say anything!,” chuckling lightly.

 

“You were about to, I could sense it on your tongue!,” Ryan quipped knowingly, pushing open the door and stepping into the Dollmaker’s Workshop.

 

Shane merely pursed his lips, lumbering after the smaller man, not having to duck his head to fit through the higher New England door frames. “Is this another prediction you’ve pulled from your Ryan Bergara Sniff Test?,” he asked. A chill ran it’s fingers down Shane’s back, like a raindrop on a window. He shook his shoulders at the temperature shift as he walked into a drafty spot.

 

Ryan peered around the room, noting that it looked like a regular bedroom on the surface. “Exactly. Come on, we have an EVP session to conduct.”

 

“Right, right.” Shane nodded, sauntering into the middle of the room to stand beside Ryan. He eyed his raven haired friend with a cocked eyebrow, assessing his body language. The shorter man shifted from foot to foot nervously, eyebrows furrowed while his eyes were wide like he was deer caught in the headlights. Shane could tell that Ryan felt the cold breath that invaded the room. “So, shall we?”

 

Inhaling, Ryan gestured to Shane, his smile strained. “How about you start this time? Just let go!” 

 

Shane made a face of content agreement, bobbing his head as he swiveled it around to observe the barren walls. “Okay. Alright.” He stepped in place, shifting his weight about as his gaze flicked back and forth. “Oh ghoul! Mr. Orkney! I am going to be honest, I don’t think you really exist! Not you nor any of your friends that are supposedly scattered across the globe!” In the background, Ryan could be heard muttering to himself about how stupid Shane was for doing this all the time. “But, you know what?,” he started again. “I am prepared for you, to change that! So come around. Say something. Stomp on these incredibly creaky floors. Or, even better!” Shane started to get animated, moving his hands about and pacing around the room in a circle like a shark. His smile was wide and mocking as sarcasm laced every syllable. “Show your miserable self! Step out of the shadows and show us who you were!” He paused and let a predictable silence fall over the damp air. Wide eyed, Shane expectantly tapped his finger against his flashlight, weaving the light about the room. Ryan would snap his head over to an empty corner, mumbling incoherently about hearing voices as his eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. A minute passed and all the tall man could do was laugh. “Just as I thought.” His circling resumed. “You are a coward! A spineless dog!,” he spat, letting his feet hit heavily on the ground.

 

At this point, Ryan had deemed that Shane had done enough and went to bring his friend down from the high of confidence he was on. “Okay, Shane! Tone it down, Jesus!”

 

It was no use, and Shane was effectively riled up, spitting out insults like a dog biting at his own tail. “I bet you’re too scared to show yourself! Is it because of me? My larger stature? You are a fool to assume that I should have this much control over a room!”

 

Ryan chuckled and gave in, starting to support his grand ramblings. “Yeah, really, he is all bone. He is fairly weak, so how about you, I don’t know… teach him a lesson?”

 

“Yes!,” Shane exclaimed rather gleefully. “Tear me up like those dolls that you hate so much! Come on!” His arms were open wide, as if he was holding up a large banner welcoming any physical harm on his body. Seconds dripped by and Shane was prepared to leave the room with one last taunt but his throat wouldn’t comply. His mouth hung agape, trying to get a noise out. Pressure eased onto his neck, pushing up his adams apple. The only noise that would come out now was a low, gurgle or choak. The pressure didn’t release at any point, only increasing at an alarming rate.

 

Though it felt like there was cotton in Shane’s ears, he could still discern Ryan’s words as he called out to him. “Shane, what’s going on? TJ stop the camera! Something’s wrong!!” The aforementioned man couldn’t tell if there was was fear mixed with Ryan’s worry.

 

If it had been any other circumstance, Shane would’ve found Ryan’s concern touching, and make some stupid remark to make his friend hate him all over again, but he was not in one of those other circumstances. Shane squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he possibly could, dropping his light and camera on the ground to be forgotten, letting his hands find better use in trying to pry whoever was at his throat; however, he only scratched at his neck. That was impossible though, he felt each digit pressing further into his skin. There was no logical explanation to it until, it hit him like a freight train the moment if felt as though the fingers had melted into his skin, and slipped through his flesh. No scream came out, or any plead to get whatever apparition was currently torturing him. His body gave out, crumpling to the ground with a thud, but the pressure, now a sharp knife like pain, did not stop, but followed him down. Shane pressed his forehead into the ground, gasping for air while another hand gripped his shoulder. Immediately, Shane flung himself away from the foreign feeling, his eyes refusing to open to maybe catch a glimpse of his apparent assaulters. The hand didn’t follow Shane’s body like the fingers that were still reaching for something. He shuddered and dug his nails into his skin just to rip out the entity. His voice longed to work, his pain and fear threatening to spill over in other ways if he couldn’t scream or cry soon. Someone was saying something but Shane didn’t have the cognitive thought to pick out anything from the muffled noise, let alone who was speaking. Logic would say it was Ryan or TJ, but at this point they weren’t running with Shane’s logic anymore. He was in Ryan’s pool now and he didn’t know how to swim through the what ifs and vague answers.

 

Finally, the ghostly fingers caught grip of something it liked. They curled around Shane’s larynx in a false soft hold, as if it was a prized gem. Tears forced their way out as the shaking man thought of what was probably going to come next. Shane gargled once more in an attempt to ask whoever it was to stop before the hand pulled harshly back, and the pain overloaded Shane’s brain. In an attempt to save himself the agony, his body shut down, and he passed into unconsciousness. 


	2. Reasoning Like a Broken Record

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane wakes up, but not quite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, and thank you for coming in for another chapter!
> 
> As usual, criticism is appreciated along with general comments and kudos!
> 
> Have fun

Darkness. Visual, audible darkness. That’s all there was, Shane guessed at that point. He couldn’t see beyond. Beyond what the void his eyes? He couldn’t tell if he was even seeing the blackness it was numbing numbing to the point that Shane couldn’t feel he couldn’t feel his own limbs his eyelids. Even though there was no visual cue that he was awake, he was sure he was in some form conscious at this point. His brain, at some point, had whirred to life once more, like an old motor. It sputtered, scrambling to reassess the situation. Check the facts run the numbers run the facts check the numbers grasp at memories memories sharp with a forgotten pain it didn’t hurt though the pain was small as small as the memories they were trapped in. Shane’s brain didn’t ache like it usually did when his brain tried to think too hard. It just ran. Shane let it. It pulled and tore every sight every feeling feelings like phantoms memories like sparks he couldn’t feel he couldn’t remember he couldn’t remember the feeling just moments before before his eyes closed his ears deafened his voice torn and gone he couldn’t feel he couldn’t speak. Shane guessed at this point. That’s all there was. He wanted though, he wanted to remember make memories stay but they were broken broken but there they just needed to be assembled he needed to assemble them all together together into a story just the moment he stops thinking. 

 

The task warranted a breath. Shane tried. He couldn’t tell if it worked. He couldn’t feel memories like sparks. He nursed the sparks into flames. Small merely snippets with enough there could be a story he could find the story hidden deep within the story within. He and Ryan they were at a location a house old but maintained injustice and murder murder of an innocent doll maker his name had been Roger. They were inside in the Dollmaker’s Room it was freezing not anymore nothing was or is or will be but he recalled in some distant memory that yes it was frigid. Shane taunted Ryan tried to stop him but he didn’t listen didn’t listen he never did. He was choked by something he couldn’t see in the distance there was Ryan somewhere unseen everything was unseen only a bed only a wall in the distance. Shane couldn’t speak he still couldn’t speak he had a feeling but only in name a pressing feeling sinking tearing his throat torn. Shane was grateful he couldn’t feel the ache of that. Then there was nothing. Like death.

 

Shane stopped that thought right there. Surely, that was what happened. He didn’t know anyone who survived getting their throat ripped out by some pissed off ghost. Yes he was dead that’s what happened that’s why why his excessive thinking didn’t hurt why he didn’t feel didn’t feel the ground beneath him or anything for that matter. 

 

The idea hung for a second. Shane decided that it wasn’t much of an improvement. Ryan was probably freaking out. His friend would be heartbroken. He couldn’t even apologize. All Shane could do was float helplessly in a mind splitting void. The entire situation broke Shane’s reality and killed him in the matter of minutes. Disheartening didn’t quite wrap it all up. 

 

_ Fuck this fuck me fuck that fucking doll maker dude Orkney or whatever this is complete horseshit horseshit I say absolute horseshit, _ Shane rambled to himself, his thoughts blending incomprehensibly. He needed to get his emotions out in some way. This was not a time for emotions. He needed to ground himself. Or at least figure out the mechanics of this weird place. He needed to find something. 

 

A flicker of light. A scene snapped into his view harshly, not like the soft opening of eyelids. It jarred Shane for a few moments, suddenly having reality back before him. His mind cleared, like a fog had lifted. His thoughts elaborated themselves, and were no longer scattered every which way. He still couldn’t feel, but his sight told him that he was lying on his side, on the floor. It was night time, the room drenched in dark blue hues from the filtering moonlight. A dark and muddy looking substance was speckled across the walls and had pooled in one area on the floor about 3 feet away from Shane’s head. Blood was the only logical answer. His blood, if Shane had to guess. Unease nipped at his mind, and fear started to seep in. He let his eyes wander, taking in everything. His brain noted that he was in the bedroom where he presumably died, and it didn't look like much time had passed. There was a large clock on the wall that read it was just barely 11:40. If Shane’s memory served correct, he and Ryan had started their investigation at around 11. So it hadn’t been too long. Now he had all the visual facts, Shane began to draw conclusions.

 

The first to come up was ghosts, which was unsettling, not to mention unusual; though it was no longer such a stretch. Sleep paralysis, a normal explanation, played back. It sounded rough around the edges, but Shane’s brain latched onto the old comfort immediately. Several things didn’t sit right with that old reasoning, but he just couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t speak, or seemingly move, which was very common in sleep paralysis, but he couldn’t feel anything so Shane had no way of telling if he was able to move or not, and it didn’t explain the blood, or his last memories before waking up into the void. Shane wanted hit his head to try to calm the hurricane of thoughts. 

 

And he did. Shane could see the room shift up, and the blur as his vision was slammed back down again. His head made a dampened thump against the solid wood flooring. Everything stopped, and Shane attempted an inhale, but he didn’t know if he did. Scuttling could be heard, but he was having a hard time pinpointing it’s exact location, or who was making it. Shane tried to look around again, but he couldn’t make out any shapes. The corners of the room were shadowed so he tried not to look into them too much, fearing that his mind might run rampant, and reality would slip from his grasp again. The man quickly abandoned the search for the noise, and refocused on moving his limbs. It was obvious he could move, but he could never tell. Logically, Shane reasoned that he’d just have to watch his arms and legs move around. Shouldn’t be too big of a deal.

 

Shane looked for his hands, which were lying limply on the wooden floor. He studied them, trying to get his vision to focus on the flesh, but they seemed fuzzy. There was an outline, but it was blurred ever so slightly, like they were covered in a soft fabric. He tried to squint his eyes, but he couldn’t. Terror mixed with apprehension to create an emotion that would’ve made Shane’s spine crawl. Questions began to push their way to the forefront of his mind, and anomalies started to cause a ruckus. Everything was so terribly wrong, and they all organized themselves into a list. First, Shane couldn’t feel an inch of his body. Second, he couldn’t speak a word or even make a noise. His fingers looked like felt and the noise his head had made when it connected with the floor made it seem like he didn’t have a skull. 

 

A hushed mumble fell somewhere off where Shane couldn’t see. He didn’t care about the noises. They didn’t answer anything. Shane commanded his chest to lift up, and his hands to plant on the ground to push himself up higher. He watched each movement with scrutiny, arms quaking with a weight that Shane couldn’t feel. After a point, he lifted his hands, and his torso fell back to land presumably where his legs were. The shuffling came back, scurrying around the room in the shadows.  _ It’s just a mouse, _ Shane muttered to himself; though, as an eerily new usual, ghosts weren’t completely off the table. Still, he needed to focus on him. He just needed to find something definitive to explain what was going on, not just bring up more questions. He looked to his legs, aiming to stand up, but his thoughts seized up. 

 

What Shane could see were soft, fabric like legs, seams lining his knee and ankle joints. Silver thread glinted in the low light as the felt twisted, the limbs looking mangled and broken, but not a bone to be seen. Like a doll. Shane's mind began to scream at the sight, hoping that it would shake it away, get his eyes to close, do something, but nothing changed. Nothing ever changed. 

 

Somewhere, Shane could tell it was from behind him, a sharp zip cut through the air. It sounded like rope being pulled. A soft click, and Shane began to scream.


	3. Voice Like a Glitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan's having a very bad day.

Ryan was having a bad day. Noting the understatement, it all started when he had a horrid nightmare about aliens abducting Shane for probably the 4th time that month. Then the hotel they were staying in had a broken coffee machine. He slipped on the floor on the way out to record some establishing shots, and it started to rain in the middle of the day. Then Shane happened. They were in the house, and Shane just had to start taunting the ghost of Roger. He just had to, like an asshole. Ryan’d give anything to convince Shane to fucking back down for once. If he had just known. 

What started off as a display to make Ryan nervous and entertain the audience quickly dissolved into gut wrenching terror as Shane just stopped. Stopped moving, stopped talking. 

Stopped breathing. 

Immediately, Ryan took a step to approach his friend. “Shane, what’s going on?” He didn’t care how much his voice quaked. When Shane didn’t respond, only gasping, Ryan panicked. “TJ, stop the camera! Something’s wrong!!” TJ followed his orders, merely dropping the camera to the ground and approaching Shane with Ryan. The taller man only gagged and wheezed, falling to the floor with a hunched back as he pressed his head into the floor. Ryan tried resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder, but he jerked away, his face twisted in a rare display of utter horror. He scratched at his throat like he was trying to get something out. “Shane! Fuck it’s a fucking ghost! What do we do!?” Ryan looked back to TJ who was stunned into a silence, staring at the quivering body on the floor that looked paler than it should’ve. 

There was a sickening tear, and Ryan felt something warm spray onto his arm and chest, speckling the lens of the camera on his chest. When Ryan turned to ask no one what happened, he caught sight of the limp face of Shane, throat spilling out blood by the pint. He fell lamely forward, chest slumping down next to a larynx that lay on the floor. Ryan’s stomach churned, and his vision blurred, all too late. The image was scorched into his brain. The brief registration of fear in Shane’s eyes as he fell. He was… Had to be. There was no way, but also, this couldn’t be. It was too surreal to reality, but too real to be a dream. The blood soaking Ryan’s shirt was warm and sticky. The day up to that point had been so blatantly real. Right up to that moment, the second Shane stopped.

Something grabbed the back of Ryan’s shirt, and started to drag him out of the room. The investigator felt his chest clench. He couldn’t just leave, Shane needed his help. There might be a chance, if he could just stop the bleeding. It was folly but it was something. It was better than running. Ryan began to thrash against the force, crying out for it to let go, and let him get back to Shane. It did not heed to his pleas, not until they reached outside. Ryan fell to the damp, muddy ground, but he didn’t care if he got dirty. He whipped his head around to make eye contact with TJ, who was trying his best to breathe evenly. 

Ryan wrenched himself up to stare at TJ. “Teej! What the hell, he have to go back in there! Shane i-”

“Dead. Shane is dead, Ryan. Did you see that?! His throat got fucking ripped out! How is he supposed to survive that?!” It came out harsh, but hurt. TJ’s face was scrunched up as if he was seeing the scene all over again.

“We could’ve at least been there for him!,” Ryan refuted.

“We could’ve died if we stayed any longer! One of us could’ve been next on the ghost’s hit list!”

Ryan sighed, falling back to the ground, covered in blood and mud. TJ sat beside him as Ryan slowly fell apart. “I can’t believe it… I can’t, I just can’t.” he merely mumbled, his eyes burning as tears built up. “God damnit. Why can’t this be a dream? Why is this happening?” His voice broke, becoming a scratchy, higher pitch as tears finally made their way onto the investigator’s cheeks, smudging the blood on them. Ryan felt a large, gentle hand against his back, rubbing up and down soothingly. TJ didn’t bother to say anything, just letting Ryan run through his ramblings, wishing to about every entity ever for the situation to be nothing more than another nightmare. 

It took a couple minutes for both TJ and Ryan to calm down enough to be able to have a levelheaded conversation about what had just happened. “We need to at least go back in and confirm…” Ryan said, his voice tired and rough. He didn’t dare finish his thought.

“Ryan, I think the blood on us is enough to prove that…” TJ let the sentence die in his chest.

Ryan just shook his head, standing up again. “I can’t… I just at least need to see him.” He turned around and started to walk to the house, his steps heavy, and slow. He swayed slightly on his feet, adrenaline no longer supporting him. TJ just watched from where he sat, not having the stomach to see his friend’s corpse.

When Ryan entered the room again, he froze. There was blood on every surface, pooling specifically towards the back where Shane’s body had been. It had been there because it wasn’t there anymore. Ryan had to bite back a scream, knowing that the ghost must’ve taken Shane’s corpse somewhere, which means that Ryan would have to go hunting for it. Hunting for his dead friend’s body. “No… no no no no! This isn’t fucking happening…” Ryan took a step back, and scanned the room to make sure that the body hadn’t just been moved to a different place. When he did, he caught sight of a huddle shadows near the opposite corner of the room. Ryan launched himself into the nearest corner, staring at the shadows till he started to make out a shape and colours. It was a pale peach, like skin, but the mass was clearly made of a felt like fabric. The longer he stared, the more he began to realize that it was a doll. A very large, life size doll. Its limbs were bent every which way, showing that it didn’t have any skeletal structure. The last thing Ryan noticed was wide, glassy brown eyes that stared forward, unblinking, and unseeing. Ryan did his best to keep his breath in check.

Till the thing fucking moved. Its head lifted up and slammed into the floor, but there wasn’t a harsh thunk of a skull connecting with the wood below. Still, the doll didn’t blink, but Ryan could see the eyes start to move, flicking over the room in large, jerky motions. The man shoved himself further into the corner, kicking the floor in desperation. The doll seemingly took no notice of Ryan, instead looking down at its hands. Ryan studied the life like face, and a connection was made.

“Shane?” It only came out as a mumble, as soft as a breeze. “Jesus… what the fuck is that thing?” He didn’t expect anyone to respond, but at that point, Ryan was convinced that the doll was made to look like Shane, and most likely by Roger Orkney.

The Shane doll shifted, its chest heaving upwards, and its hands planting themselves on the floor. All the movements were slow, and clunky, like a marionette with cut strings. It fell back, sitting on its twisted legs. Ryan now had a clear view of the nape of the doll’s neck, and he could see a little white ring sticking out. It practically begged to be pulled, and at this point, the man figured that doing anything would be better than doing nothing. So, he began to move again, crouched low to the floor, rounding around out of sight till he was behind the doll. Its head turned to look down at it’s legs, and its mouth hung open, allowing Ryan to see the peachy fabric inside. The mouth really was nothing more than a fold in the felt. 

With a slow breath, Ryan curled a finger around the ring, and pulled back. Something within the Shane doll’s throat clicked with every inch Ryan pulled back before he let go, and the string that had extended out fell against the doll’s back. A second passed where the static of a mic turning on crackled before a high pitched screech emitted from the doll. Ryan pushed himself away, covering his ears and squeezing his eyes shut. The scream, thankfully didn’t last long, dying almost as quickly has it had came.

“Jesus Fuck! What kind of bullshit is this!?” Shane’s voice cut through the air, and Ryan’s eyes snapped open. The Shane doll was still the only one there. It’s mouth moved, and noise came out. “What is this…? This is one fucked up afterlife.” It’s voice shook, as the eyes stayed trained on it’s legs. The face was still as vacant as ever. 

Ryan took a breath and, called out to the doll. “Sh-Shane?” It felt like there was cotton in his throat. 

The doll snapped it’s head over at the name, now looking at Ryan with dead eyes. “Rya-” The voice cut out, but the mouth still moved. The doll… or … Shane? Shane noticed it as well, eyes trying to find his mouth. Ryan saw that the drawstring had retracted all the way back to the nape of Shane’s neck.

“Hold on…” Ryan held up a hand before shifting around to pull on the ring again, but heavy footsteps approaching stopped him before he could pull. 

TJ stumbled into the room, wide eyed. Ryan figured he had heard Shane’s almost deafening scream. “RYAN! Jesus wha-... Ryan, what is that?” He quickly changed his question the moment he saw the Shane doll sitting on the floor with Ryan. The doll looked up with an expressionless face.

“Teej…,” Ryan started carefully, as if he was talking to a dangerous animal. “I think… this is Shane.” His uncertainty was written all over his face.

TJ just shook his head, unable to look away from the doll. “...What?”

“Just, hold on.” After a few centering breaths, Ryan reached around Shane, and pulled back the drawstring as far as it would go. Shane’s gaze snapped over to Ryan, and his mouth began to move as Ryan let go of the white, plastic ring.

The string began to retract, and Shane spoke again. “-at do you want me to say? I don’t even know what I am, or what’s going on! What even happened, I know I died but that doesn’t explain shit!” Ryan had never heard Shane so panicked before, but he’d never died before either.

TJ was sending Shane some serious weird looks, his face warped into one of abject horror. “Well, okay so Shane’s just a doll now?”

All Ryan could do was shrug. “Yeah.”

“A doll?” Shane’s voice was confused, and incredulous. “I mean, that would explain a lot, but… It’s… too…” Ryan could tell Shane’s mind was struggling with reality, and it was understandable. The man went his entire life with a firm set belief system, and in less than an hour it was all torn down.

“Yeah, I agree with Shane. Ghosts? Fine. Shane getting turned into a doll? That’s outrageous, even for you.” Ryan pretended to not take offence. 

“Okay, let’s just… Stay calm.” Ryan took a deep breath, forcing his brain into action. He began mumbling to himself. “So, he has a little drawstring on his neck, which seems to be the only way for him to talk. He appears to be made of fabric with no skeletal structure.” His finger tapped against his chin in thought as he lined up all the evidence for himself. He lifted his head again, and looked at Shane, addressing him directly. “My best guess is that you are possessing that doll.”

Shane just stared at him wordlessly.

“Fuck, right.” Ryan reached behind and pulled out the string again.

“Okay, if I’m possessing this doll, why can’t I leave?” Shane sounded like he had calmed considerably, getting over the initial shock, though Ryan knows better than to think his friend was completely okay.

“Well, have you tried leaving the doll?”

“No.”

“Then try it!”

“I don’t know how! I just woke u-” Shane’s voice cut off, and all Ryan could do was groan.

“Shane, activate your own voice, I’m not doing it for you.” The two stared at each other for a few seconds, till Ryan caved. He shot Shane a glare as he pulled the string out again.

“Ryan, I can’t feel my own fingers. The only way I’m doing anything is if I can see myself doing it. I can’t just reach back and blindly try to grab for something, not even knowing if I’ve got it,” Shane explained with a drop of annoyance in his tone.

Ryan rubbed his face, sputtering. “Fucking hell… Okay. What were you saying before?” He was a little too quick to turn the conversation away from only minor facts such as Shane’s inability to feel any of his surroundings, including his own body.

“Right.” Shane’s head dropped to stare at his twisted knees. “I just woke up in this doll, with no instruction manual.” It was supposed to be a joke, but there was no levity to the doll’s tone.  
The drawstring slipped back into place as Shane finished, and Ryan leaned back, brows tightly knit together. “Right. I guess we’ll have to do some research.” He flicked his gaze up to meet the glassy eyes. “I’ll… Do some research,”

“We should probably get out and call the police,” TJ suggested lightly.

Ryan looked at the camera man with a scrutinizing glare. “Are you serious? They’ll think we killed him! We’re the only ones here!” Shane seemed to agree, nodding adamantly along.

TJ sighed. “Yes, but we also have video proof!,” he reasoned.

Going along with it, Ryan pulled up TJ’s camera from the floor that he had dropped, and searched through the files to play to tape back on the small digital screen. Both Shane and TJ craned their necks to see what the camera had caught.

Ryan sped through the first couple minutes where Shane was just pacing around, taunting the ghost, slowing it back down when Shane stopped for the second time. The Shane on camera began to choke, and Ryan ordered TJ to turn the camera off, which only led to him dropping it onto the floor. The lens had a tilted view of the room as Shane collapsed, the other two approaching in from the side of the frame. Ryan dipped down and rested a hand on Shane’s shoulder, sending the taller man scrambling away, still scratching at his throat. As the situation worsened, there was a flicker in front of Shane. It was rim lighted, outlining a head and shoulders. The form wavered, and became clearer. It was the back of a man in suspenders, shoulders tense, pulled up to his ears. The two living souls could only stare in shock, while Shane remained stoic as ever. In a snap, the figure pulled back sharply, carrying a bit of Shane with it. Blood sprayed, drops speckling the lens, blurring out bits of the video. The body fell forward, and the sound of Ryan screaming for someone to let him go accompanied the hasty footsteps that ran from the house. Now, it was just Shane, lying limp on the ground, and the blood adorning the screen.

A few minutes passed, and the apparition appeared again, though only it’s feet could be seen. It bent over the corpse, managing to lift up Shane’s face and studying it with interest. It twisted the face about, looking at every angle, before dropping it to the floor again, disappearing as well. Minutes passed, only thumps and the scratch of fabric being heard. It had been 20 minutes, and Ryan knew he’d be going back into the house soon. They all waited anxiously, unable to look away from Shane’s body that was still very much there on the floor. Another minute, and the body finally began to move, looking as though it was being lifted, but the ghost couldn’t be seen. The body floated upwards out of frame, and there was nothing. 

Ryan stopped the footage, eyes wide. “Fucking hell,” was all he could say. There wasn’t a whole lot to say. He felt sickened, and mucky inside, watching his friend die in front of him, on video. He didn’t even care about the ghost evidence, because that meant jack shit in the light of, Shane was actually dead. Any hope that it was all some horrible, twisted joke or masochistic dream was effectively dashed the moment he saw the death play out frame by frame. Before he could stop it. tears again pushed their way to the surface. 

A soft, cushy hand was pressed into Ryan’s back, and it only made Ryan sob more. For the first time, he wished he could blame this all on moldy bread. 

“Come on.” TJ’s voice was hushed, and careful, nothing more than a whisper. “We should probably get out of here.” The hand on Ryan’s back disappeared as the cameraman hauled the doll up over his shoulder, earning no protest.

Ryan nodded numbly, standing up with the camera held firmly between his tense palms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for reading! It's appreciated!
> 
> Sorry this took a little bit to write, but I hope you enjoy it none the less.
> 
> Critique and general comments are always greatly appreciated! 
> 
> This will be updated again after 3 one shots, and a chapter update for Casa, and TVLansLLM.
> 
> Have a nice day!


	4. Silent Like the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is an air of permanence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, thank you for dropping in for another chapter.
> 
> As always, comments, kudos, and the likes are always welcomed and appreciated.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter.

TJ placed the doll into the back of the SUV when Ryan asked him to do something.

“I need you to help me cover this up.”

For a second, TJ was confused. “Of course I’m helping keep Shane all hush-hush! The government would scoop him up the second they got word of it.”

Ryan could only shake his head. “No. We need to make it look like a disappearance.”

That stuck TJ with an open jaw. “What!? Ryan, we can at least hide the doll, we can’t hide a ghost murder! Did you see the amount of blood there!?”

Ryan chose not to look at his friend in the eye, keeping his gaze fixed on the camera that held everything. “If Shane is officially proclaimed as dead, we can’t get him back and have things go to normal.” His voice was smaller than he wanted it to be, hushed and desperate. He could hear TJ’s feet squelch in the mud as he stepped back.

“You’re joking.” 

Ryan offered nothing.

“You’re not joking.” TJ visibly sagged.

“Listen if we could just…” Ryan began carefully. “If we could figure out where his body went… if we could find it, then maybe we could-”

TJ cut his friend off right there. “Ryan, there is no getting Shane back.” He said it so sternly, almost harsh. It caused Ryan’s breath to hitch in his chest, and his voice to cut out. TJ couldn’t believe that. He wouldn’t. Ryan could get Shane back. TJ continued when Ryan didn’t respond. “Even if we get his body back, it’s decomposing. The body is dead. Shane is dead. We’re lucky to even have him preserved.” Large hands rested on Ryan’s tense shoulders. “We don’t even know how ghosts work. Like you two have said before, there are no ghost scientists. We’ll probably never get him out of the doll.” The last bit came out a little too quiet, displaying TJ’s own woes about the situation.

Everything was silent as Ryan’s mind ran around, trying to piece together evidence to prove TJ wrong. There had to be something he could do. Something he could summon. Someone he could pray to that would give him back everything that was wrongfully torn away from him.

But for the first time, Ryan had nothing.

There were no other theories.

Reluctantly, Ryan moved his arms ever so slightly to give the video camera to TJ. It was delicately pulled from his grasp.

Within minutes, TJ had called the police department. A squad of officers descended quickly and secured the scene quicker. They came down, loud and skeptical. One viewing of the footage convinced them otherwise. TJ handled all the talking while Ryan sat on the steps of the house, staring at the mud. Some cops tried to talk to him but it was clear that he wasn’t going to. Not at the moment at least. All recording devices were confiscated as evidence, promising to send Ryan copies of files so he could salvage an episode from what they had gathered, which wasn’t much. Ryan wasn’t really paying attention though. The show didn’t matter anymore. It was all over anyway, as TJ had so eloquently pointed out. At this point, if Ryan found a way to get Shane back, he’d still be a secret to everyone. Because people didn’t come back to life. That was all Ryan could manage to roll around in his head for the hours of investigation that was going on. 

Eventually, TJ and Ryan were told that they would have to go down to the police station for proper questioning at some point. According to the cops, while the video evidence was pretty damning against them killing Shane, they still needed to be thorough. TJ expressed both of their understanding and told them to call whenever they needed either in. Ryan just shuffled away in the background, rounding around to the SUV again.

Opening the back, the short man looked in to see a mess of electronics, and a pale abandoned doll. In the distance, he could hear tires rolling on old beaten asphalt. Minimum moonlight filtered into the back to catch the glass of the doll’s eye, the dead brown irises staring blankly at Ryan. Huffing lightly, he stepped up into the back fully and slumped against the car wall across from Shane. Neither was capable of speaking. One because he couldn’t, the other because he wouldn’t.

Shane’s head tilted to the side a few times, flashing the white plastic ring fixed to his neck. Ryan caught his friend’s drift and reached out to Shane’s neck. His hand shook lightly as he delicately hooked his index finger around the ring and gently pulled. He did so painfully slow, clearly concerned. The line wasn’t out to it’s fullest extent, but Ryan figured it would give Shane enough time to say his piece. 

When the mic crackled in, Shane’s voice was let out but it was peculiar for the man. It was small, low, and subdued like he was whispering a dire secret. If Ryan hadn’t been 2 feet away from Shane, he was sure he would’ve just missed his friend’s words. “Ryan… Is this it? Is this… is this me now?” The juxtaposition between Shane’s vacant face and woebegone voice was staggering.

Ryan couldn’t respond. A pressure behind his eyes that had gone unnoticed broke, wet, salty tears escaping at a rapid pace. The only thing Ryan felt like he could do was hug the doll, and squeeze it tight. He could feel the stuffing inside bend and bow under the force of Ryan’s arms, only causing sobs to shake his shoulders. The doll’s arms were pinned, not moving to hug back. After a few aching moments, Ryan let out a trembling whisper.

“I’m sorry.” The words were heavy, weighed down by his sorrow and remorse. Once Ryan said that he couldn’t stop, crumbling into hasty ramblings, persistently apologizing. All the while, Shane remained mute and numb. It didn’t take long for Ryan to start lying. “I can fix this, I swear I swear I’ll fix this. I’ll fix you.” He got no response.

Knuckles rapped on the metal of the vehicle before TJ’s voice filtered in. “You want to stay back here, Ryan?” The sternness was back, but it was softened a bit.

The tone made Ryan pull back, setting Shane back against the side of the SUV. There was a small spark of shame in his chest that caused the shorter man to scoot back against the side as well. “Yeah.” His voice was rough, one hand making its way up to his eyes to smear the tears away. The back was closed off, drenching the back in inky darkness. Felt could be heard shifting about, Shane’s soft, simplified food knocking on Ryan’s leg. “Shane, stop kicking me,” he grumbled, tucking his legs up as he waited for TJ to get into the driver’s seat.

The driver’s side door opened, causing the lights in the SUV to turn on and illuminate Shane properly. His head jerked and Ryan pulled the string again. Shane’s voice cracked through, annoyed. “I couldn't see my feet, Ryan.” 

Ryan bit his lip, shifting uncomfortably. “Sorry.” He half expected Shane to say something back, but Ryan hadn’t given him enough time with the pull.

\--

The drive back was dead silent, TJ focused on the road with a renewed intent. Shane purposefully hid his ring from Ryan’s view, wishing to remain silent in his stoicism. Ryan would’ve never admitted it at the time, but he hated the tension in the air. The world outside was blurred and black, light only passing in between seconds. It wasn’t until they were cruising up the highway to reach the hotel, did Ryan hit another roadblock.

“How are we going to get Shane on the plane? He doesn’t exactly fit in any of our bags.” 

TJ audibly groaned from behind the wheel, flicking the indicator to signal their way onto an exit. “Goddamnit. I guess we have to… buy a new bag and check it with the rest of Shane’s bags.”

“BuzzFeed is going to ring us out for all the expenses,” Ryan muttered bitterly, raking his fingers through his grimy and greasy hair. “First extended hotel stay till the police say we can go. Then the new plane ticket and more checked bags.” It was useless to ramble off every individual financial blow the whole incident had on top of the death of a dear friend, but Ryan’s mind couldn’t help but look at everything at every angle. Shane stared blankly at his hands.

“Ryan,” TJ began. “I’m pretty sure BuzzFeed is going to care less about money for a while when it comes to Unsolved.”

It made sense, but in a situation where nothing followed the perceived reality they once lived, Ryan wasn’t entirely convinced. 

Shane offered up his line for the first time since they started the drive. Ryan hastily complied, treating the string with a gentle hand. “As my dying wish, I’d like you two to please not throw away any of my stuff.”

Despite it all, Ryan let out a worn chuckle, reeling his hand back. “This is serious, Shane.” He drew in an uneven breath, before continuing. “How about I throw away all of your stupid Hawaiian Shirts?” Desperate for a reply to keep the banter up, Ryan yanked on the ring as far as he could, going for maximum time.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I look amazing in those shirts.” From the sound of it, Shane was desperate for the shred of normalcy as well.

Ryan sent an uncertain look over but dropped it quickly. “That’s what you think. I think you need some new prescriptions.”

“Since when were you the fashion police?” The doll head twisted, tilting to the side lamely in jerky movements.

“I don’t need to be knowledgeable in fashion to know that someone looks bad in something,” Ryan hastily refuted.

Shane’s laugh came through as if it was playing on a vintage record, swollen with melancholy and an old joy.

Normally, it took a bit more to get Ryan to wheeze, but a lot of things had changed. “To be serious, we won’t be getting rid of anything. I can promise you that.”

The doll settled again, speaking time cutting off as the string fully retracted.

Ryan took a quick glance out a window in time to see the hotel come into view. “Well, we’re here. How are we getting him in?” Ryan craned his head around the driver’s seat to catch TJ’s response better.

The man used one hand to absent-mindedly scratch his beard as he pulled into a parking spot. “We could leave him in here?”

The two living men looked over to Shane, looking as though they were seriously considering it. He, in response, violently jerked his head, silently asking Ryan to let him speak. The line was pulled out, and Shane’s voice was louder than it had been. “I am not being left behind in some rental SUV.” He didn’t provide much more than that, but he sounded greatly averse to the idea. Ryan would’ve bet money on the thought that if Shane’s face worked, his eyebrows would be furrowed in annoyance.

TJ just shook his head. “We can’t raise suspicion, Shane. There’s no way we can get you in without raising a few eyebrows or getting recorded on the security cameras.” He sighed heavily. “You’ll be fine. It’s one night. We can figure out a way tomorrow, alright?”

Silently, Shane nodded, no one else in the car being able to tell if he was displeased with the conclusion, or if he even felt apprehensive.

Ryan tried to offer some comfort just to be safe. “It’ll be okay, Shane. I’ll see you tomorrow. I promise.” He did his best to ignore the way the glassy eyes bore into Ryan’s own eyes, climbing out of the back and closing it up. 

A sharp beep resounded, and Shane was safely locked away. Ryan kept his eyes on the vehicle as he and TJ headed for the hotel, stumbling across the lot. TJ rested a hand on the center of Ryan’s back, using it to urge him forward. “Come on. We both need to get some sleep.”

\--

The SUV was pitch black, pale moonlight barely illuminating the passenger’s seat. Too many thoughts swam around in Shane’s stuffed head for him to really decern them from each other. All they managed to do was make the spirit(?) feel crummy and pathetic in every way possible. He was grateful that he couldn’t see his own broken, limp body, too tired to have another internal crisis. 

The world was still, the air damp from long passed rain, the crickets silent from exhaustion. A doll speaks in a parking lot, and no one passing by cares to hear what it has to say. So it makes no sound at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading all the way through. Expect for the next chapter come in a little sooner than this one did. Hopefully, I won't leave you all hanging for over a month!
> 
> What will be coming up next, in general, is a couple of one-shots, and a chapter for Casa de Los Espiritus, so if any of you are following that, that is what you have to look forward to.
> 
> Have a nice day, and stay healthy.


End file.
